


[boys] on film

by shocked_into_shame



Series: flippy's prompt challenge [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Don't think too hard about it, M/M, OOC, Prompt Challenge, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 07:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12930798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shocked_into_shame/pseuds/shocked_into_shame
Summary: smut, a mysterious package or camera, Jonathan, the gymBilly puts a foot up on the bench and stretches his legs a little, cocking his head and looking down at the pictures. As his eyes move back and forth over the spread of images, his expression gets less and less cocky and more and more… something else, something else that Steve can’t quite place.Week 1 of flippyspoon's prompt challenge





	[boys] on film

**Author's Note:**

> hey yo this is for the first week of the great flippyspoon's prompt challenge, which i suggest all writers look at and utilize because it's a really awesome format : http://flippyspoon.tumblr.com/post/168205536481/flippys-prompt-challenge
> 
> I drew the following: smut, a mysterious package or camera, Jonathan, the gym

Steve wipes the sweat off his brow and bends down, placing his hands on his knobby knees and panting. Billy is breathing a little hard, too, but he seems way less affected than Steve is, and, what’s worse, is he just played _way_ better than Steve did. Steve’s been getting better and better – has been planting his feet – but he still can’t seem to beat Billy in basketball.

“Hargrove, Harrington,” their coach calls out, and the two of them hustle over to him. He says, in a stern voice, “Stay here. I’ve got a little project for the two of you.”

Billy groans and Steve rolls his eyes. “C’mon, coach. I’ve got places to be,” the blonde grumbles, pursing his lips.  

“Well, I already promised Jonathan Byers that the two of you would be staying.”

Steve’s eyes go wide at that and he puts a hand on his hip. “Jonathan Byers?” he croaks and Billy smirks in his direction.

“Hey, Harrington, isn’t that the guy who stole your girl?”

Their coach huffs and crosses his arms. “Mr. Byers is doing a photography project about the athletics department. Since you two are my best players, I figured you’d be best for the photos. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

Steve feels a little bit of warmth in his gut. _Best player_. He hasn’t felt like he’s been any good as basketball lately, not since Billy came to Hawkins, but hearing his coach call him one of the _best players_ makes him feel a little more confident.

And then his coach is leaving and Jonathan is walking into the gym, camera in hand. Maybe he doesn’t feel so confident after all. Steve sighs and crosses his arms, and keeps telling himself not to be an asshole about this. It isn’t Jonathan’s fault that Nancy doesn’t care about Steve that way. It’s not like Jonathan owes him anything – they aren’t even friends. He shouldn’t take out this shit on him.

Jonathan directs the two of them to play a little one-on-one game, and Steve tries his hardest to remember all the tips that he’s learned from Billy. Plant your feet. Always be ready to steal the ball or have the ball stolen from you. Take a shot if you see a window of opportunity.

They play, and – of course – Billy does his typical maneuver of crowding up into Steve’s space, his chest pressed closely to Steve’s back. It makes the hairs on his neck stand up and he’s only distantly aware of the click of Jonathan’s camera in the background. Steve sees his window and goes for a lay-up, and, to his surprise, he actually makes it without Billy taking the ball from him.

“Hey, look at that, Harrington!” Billy shouts with a wide, almost _genuine_ smile on his face. “Maybe this kid should take pictures of the game all the time.”

Steve’s luck stops there. Billy beats him – as fucking usual – but at least it isn’t a _total_ blowout. He feels a little like his legs are made of gelatin, though, and even Billy looks a tired out. He’s sitting on one of the bleachers, glistening on his brow, his blonde hair dark with sweat and matted to his forehead and neck.

And, damn him, Steve thinks it’s a pretty good look on him.

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Jonathan comes to their practice again. It distracts Steve and Billy is able to steal the ball from him, and Steve sprints after him toward the other side of the court but it’s too fucking late. Billy is making a fucking _dunk_ , hanging onto the rim. What a show-off, Steve thinks. Steve also wonders why none of the other team members seem to even _try_ to stop Billy.

Jonathan has this big manila envelope in his hands, and he just sits at the bleachers calmly, patiently waiting for the practice to be over. After it’s done and everyone has fanned out of the gym and into the locker room, Jonathan approaches them and says, “I developed the pictures, and I want you to take a look at them before I publish them.”

Billy huffs like he’s annoyed, like he doesn’t have time for this, but curiosity seems to win over the both of them because Billy is throwing a towel over his shoulders and swaggering toward the bleachers to look at the pictures. Steve follows him and watches as Jonathan takes the prints out of the envelope and lays them all out on the first row of the bleachers.

Billy puts a foot up on the bench and stretches his legs a little, cocking his head and looking down at the pictures. As his eyes move back and forth over the spread of images, his expression gets less and less cocky and more and more… something else, something else that Steve can’t quite place.

Steve finally looks down at the pictures and what he sees stops him in his fucking tracks. There are, of course, pictures of them alone, running across the court or making a shot. There is a picture of Steve making his lay-up. But there are also pictures of them together, with Billy so close behind Steve, and the _look_ on the both of their faces makes Steve’s head spin. There’s even a picture of the moment _after_ Steve had taken the lay-up, a wide-shot of the them beaming at each other from across the court.

They look like friends. They look like… more than that. In the pictures of them close together, they look like they could be _much_ more than that.

* * *

 

After they give their approval on the pictures, Steve walks toward the empty locker rooms and starts peeling his sweaty clothes off to take a shower. He’s glad there isn’t anyone else around right now, because he feels strange. Seeing those pictures, seeing how good the pair of them looked together is really fucking with Steve’s head.

Billy walks into the locker room and he seems just as affected by the whole thing; he’s gone radio silent, which is a rarity for him. Steve turns on the shower and starts to lather his hair up, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Billy strip off his shoes and his socks and his gym shorts, and Steve has to look away before he gets caught staring at Billy Hargrove’s dick.

Billy takes the shower-head next to him, and this reminds Steve so much of that time when Billy and Tommy had taunted him in these showers, when Billy had told him there were plenty of bitches in the sea. He had felt a little bit like a piece of meat, then, with Billy stretching out his neck and staring at him and turning off his water and fucking touching his back.

But now, Billy isn’t even looking at him. He’s just washing his own hair silently, and Steve doesn’t know why it pisses him off. He wants Billy’s _attention_ , and that’s all kinds of wrong and stupid but Steve’s never been too smart.

“Those pictures were something, huh man?” Steve asks, washing out the last of the shampoo in his hair. His voice seems to echo in the empty showers.

“Yeah,” Billy huffs out, getting out the last of the shampoo in his hair, too. “We looked… good.”

“Yeah. We did. Good.”

Billy nods. “Good together, even,” he murmurs, turning off the spray of his shower. Steve feels like he’s going to maybe throw up, but in a good way. If one can throw up in a good way, that is.

“I… I agree with you, Hargrove. We looked… really good side by side.”

Billy looks up and the look in his eyes can only be described as fucking _hungry_. His blonde hair is dark with dampness, and Steve watches a drop of water slide down the side of Billy’s face, down to his jaw and neck. He doesn’t know what’s happened to him, but Steve wants to lick it up. Billy’s eyes, those fucking gorgeous blue eyes, are dark and he’s capturing his bottom lip between his teeth. Steve shuts off his own shower and they just stand there, breathing heavily and looking at each other. And then Billy is taking a step forward, and maybe Steve is too, and Billy is leaning up slightly and capturing Steve’s lips in his, his fingers grabbing at the hair on the nape of Steve’s neck.

If Steve had ever considered what it’d be like to kiss Billy Hargrove, this certainly wouldn’t have been what he expected. No, kissing Billy Hargrove, to him, might have been a fucking passionate experience, violent and angry just like a fight. Steve probably would have guessed that it would have been angry clashing of teeth and tongues, something more like a punch and less like a kiss.

But that’s not what kissing Billy Hargrove is like. It’s so fucking _gentle_ , like Billy is overwhelmed with it, with _Steve_ , and Steve feels overwhelmed, too. They kiss for what seems like an eternity, a gentle brush of lips against lips until Steve runs his tongue along Billy’s bottom lip, and Billy whimpers and tightens his hand in Steve’s hair, opening his mouth for Steve. And when they start using their tongues, it’s not angry or violent or gross. It’s slow and sensual and it makes Steve’s cock harden between his legs. He reaches down and paws at Billy’s hip, moving him forward so their lower halves are pressed together, and then he feels it – Billy’s just as hard as he is.

Billy pulls away from the kiss and looks into Steve’s eyes and he whispers, so soft and shy and _not_ like Billy at all, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, pretty boy.”

Steve gasps and tightens his hold on Billy’s hip. He wants to kiss Billy _again_ , but then Billy is peppering kisses down his jaw and his neck, and Steve lets out a soft groan. When Billy’s mouth latches onto his nipple, Steve tangles a hand in Billy’s wet hair, fisting at the curls. He can’t fucking help it, but he’s pushing Billy’s head down, down, down toward his cock, and Billy gets on his knees so fucking easily for him.

Steve feels a rush of power as Billy looks up at him with those baby blues and leans forward so the head of Steve’s cock is rubbing against that fat bottom lip of his. Steve actually fucking groans, a loud sound that reverberates through the locker room – he can’t help it, when Billy grasps at the base of his dick with his hand and starts teasing the head with his lips and his tongue, and Steve wants more. He wants so much fucking more but Billy is being a goddamn _tease_ right now.

Until, of course, he’s looking up, making eye-contact with Steve as he surprises him and swallows him all the way to the base of his cock. Steve’s head lolls to the side with a delirious cry as the tight, wet heat of Billy Hargrove’s mouth envelops his dick. He wants so badly to grab the back of Billy’s head and thrust forward into that heat, wants to fuck Billy’s face and assert his dominance over this boy who once broke a plate over his head, once pummeled him into oblivion.

But the overwhelmed fucking look on Billy’s face as he bobs his head slowly, his eyebrows furrowed and his blue eyes shiny with tears – that makes Steve want to take care of him, to hold him tight and never let him go.

Steve becomes aware that Billy is fucking _whimpering_ around his cock, and that’s when he realizes that Billy’s got a hand down between his legs, rubbing his own hardness to the same fucking rhythm that he’s sucking Steve. Billy shuts his eyes and his face squeezes up, and he groans around Steve’s cock as he cums, thick ropes shooting out onto the shower floor near Steve’s feet. And that’s it, that’s fucking _it_ for Steve, and he warns, voice choked-out and breath huffing, “I’m cumming, Billy.” And then he’s cumming, cumming into Billy Hargrove’s mouth and down his fucking throat with a cry.

Once it’s over, Billy rubs at Steve’s stomach gently and pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Like I said, Harrington,” he says looking up, voice fucking scratchy and ruined. If he hadn’t just came, that’d make Steve get hard all over again. “I think that kid should come take pictures of practice more often.”


End file.
